


Heresy!

by ScarabsVassal



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarabsVassal/pseuds/ScarabsVassal
Summary: “Where have you learned this Heresy?” For some odd reason, the Arbiter awaited a reply. His narrowed gaze he’d mistaken for aggressive intent now shed it’s exterior into one of sharp focus. It did not quell the Heretic’s well-placed concerns. Instead the Arbiter's question stuck a raw nerve, lighting his frayed flight response aflame. Was he was truly forgotten on this miserable outpost!
Kudos: 4





	Heresy!

_“If all your hopes rest on him, then I fear for the future of this galaxy.”_ The monitors words echoed throughout the Heretic’s mind as he halted from boarding his seraph.

“Arbiter.”

The plumed angry gas of Threshold was so close. His escape, now deterred in the face of an Arbiter—a dogmatic _smear_ to the title. The Heretic hopped from his Seraph, striding to meet his former commander. Internally he snarled at himself, being quick to correct his association. Vadamee is dead. This is an Arbiter, not his commander.

“I’d rather die by your hand than let the prophets lead me to slaughter.”

Perhaps he was looking for a reaction—an affirmation to his status. Something that signified this wasn’t the same person he once knew. He knew it was futile to hope that he was still there, somewhere. Yet, he still remained leveled as he awaited the Arbiters response. The Heretic met the Arbiter’s narrowed gaze, as if he were to lunge instead of answer. It had Sesa’s nerves alight, muscles tense with anticipation. He played with the thought of shooting first before the Arbiter had his footing.

“Where have you learned this Heresy?” For some odd reason, the Arbiter awaited a reply. His narrowed gaze he’d mistaken for aggressive intent now shed it’s exterior into one of sharp focus. It did not quell the Heretic’s well-placed concerns. Instead the Arbiter's question stuck a raw nerve, lighting his frayed flight response aflame. Was he was truly forgotten on this miserable outpost!

“Are you taunting me, _Thel Vadamee?”_ He spat his name like a curse, knowing it probably wouldn’t provoke a reaction out of the Prophets chosen. “The sacrifices we’ve made has been all for naught, it seems. You assign us to this brazened outpost and yet fail to hold responsibility for your actions. Do not feign ignorance in light of your consequences.”

To his interest, the Arbiter flinched. A crack to his vitrified anointment blessed by the prophets will. The arbiter stood ridged, grasp tightened to his weapon. “I do not dictate the choices you and your ilk make,” he said almost carefully placed. The Heretic snorted as he took a few paces forward.

“Of course, _Arbiter_ ,” he emphasized the title. “Then it must only be a coincidence I’ve gained knowledge to the lies the prophets feed because of my doing. Much like how I stayed on this outpost just to watch the destruction of the halo array.” He awaited a response, but only received a sharp calculating glare and a clamped jaw in return. He chuffed at the display, adding, “though, I suppose I could’ve remained silent and complicit on the matter.” _One of the many travesties the prophets have inflicted onto you—what they molded you into…_ He left it unsaid.

“Why do you spout this rhetoric?” The Arbiter snarled, yet not pulling the trigger. “Who taught you these lies.”

The Oracle, or rather the precedence’s _tool_ , descended into the chamber humming a lilting tune. The Arbiter’s attention snapped into one of rapture as the monitor easily glided in front of the two. Something heavy and crushing curled at the sight, having seen that undignified look only at one of a false sermon. “The Oracle,” said the Arbiter. The heretic kept from glowering.

“Hello! I am three-four-three Guilty Spark. I am the monitor of instillation zero-four.”

“Ask the Oracle about Halo. How they would sacrifice us all for nothing!” He spat with an enraged wave of his arm.

“More questions? Splendid!” The Heretic stepped back. “I would be happy to assist.”

Now would be the time to strike, he pondered. However, during their encounter, he took notice to the lack of radioactive carbine spindles carving into his skin. To attack unprovoked after their unsolicited conversation would only harm his sense in honor. Perhaps when he’d thought the Arbiter was out for blood would the Heretic sprung at the chance. Instead, in exchange for this brief respite, the Heretic took hold of the opportunity.

He fled.

He heard the surprised shout and the few stray spindles just below his feet, but he didn’t pay mind. He practically lunged inside the Seraph, successfully making his escape. He kept an eye on the nav-tracker, wary for a hostile blip if the Arbiter had somehow came after him. He flew noncommittally for the first few minutes, awaiting for his pursuit once again.

It was a wasted endeavor to believe that the Arbiter would be forgotten or be ambushed by the flood condemning his forces. The Arbiter had defied death by the prophets hand, and to die so soon just wasn’t in Thel’s nature. He cursed himself. That was an Arbiter, not Thel. He then snapped himself into focus, monitoring his surroundings as he became a satellite to the free-falling base.

When not a single red blip came, the Heretic dared to make his way back hoping he still had enough time. He head to the fail-safe point where his first lieutenant would be awaiting for him. He had no doubt Loka Bandolee survived the siege on their base as he’d been tasked to watch over Threshold’s planetary status in case for possible evac.

True to his assessment, he was parked at the isolated shelter where—well away from the flood outbreak and far from any clearance the raiding party had—his lieutenant waited with his banshee. He didn’t want to ponder what he would’ve done in the case he’d not have survived. Would he have carried on with the movement? He shook it off as it did not matter, he was alive after all.

Upon seeing the Seraph, Loka wasted no time in hopping into his vehicle, gliding beside Sesa as they escaped the facility. Within his limited cams, the heretic witnessed as the mine lost it’s auxiliary power. The once floating structure now fell into the atmosphere of the angry gas planet below.

As they left orbit, Sesa could only ponder the past days events. Perhaps he’ll be able to answer the Arbiter’s question soon. One way or another, he will tell everyone why he ‘spouts this rhetoric’.

_The Elites are blind, Arbiter, but I will make them see._

**Author's Note:**

> Ey, this is my first work I posted. I originally wanted to extend this into something larger, but after having this sit without working on it further, I surmised it'll work on it's own. 
> 
> Critiques or advice are appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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